


I Could Do Most Anything To You

by Dustbunnygirl



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-12
Updated: 2008-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 08:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8006530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dustbunnygirl/pseuds/Dustbunnygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto thinks it’s okay to tease Jack about his age. Jack decides to show him the benefits of experience over youth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Could Do Most Anything To You

**Author's Note:**

> Title: I Could Do Most Anything To You  
> Fandom: Torchwood (yeah, like I seem to have another fandom lately)  
> Pairing: jack/ianto  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Word count: 1,339  
> Warnings: Porny, slashy. Which of course means it's 1,300 words of hot boys doing porny things to one another. No spoilers, though.  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. I’ve borrowed my toys from Auntie Beeb and Uncle Rusty’s toy box and fully plan on eventually giving them back someday, when I’m tired of them. (And at least I won’t break them as bad as YOU did, Uncle Rusty. For SHAME!)  
> Author’s Note: For mithfeniel, my poor beta and friend, who has to put up with my weirdness and constant “but is it good enough?”’s and tendency toward falling asleep in IM. (Actually, if I’m handing out porn by way of apology for IM Narcolepsy, I owe it to a WHOLE lot more people…)
> 
> Title comes from “Somewhere a Clock is Ticking,” by Snow Patrol.

The leather is unforgiving, unyielding, holding Ianto’s wrists tight and secure over his head. There’s barely room for his hands to turn. He strains against them, against the chain holding them to the headboard, keeping him still and denying him the simple pleasure of touch. The matching cuffs wrapped around each ankle, secured so sturdily to the footboard, spreading his legs obscenely wide, don’t let him move much, either. 

But Jack figures it’s the blindfold that has his lover whining in that low, pitiful tone; has him struggling weakly against the sheets and pouting. Or maybe it’s the fact Jack’s left him alone for the past five minutes, watching Ianto in silence as he thrashes over cool satin. 

“Jack…”

Jack doesn’t speak. Bites his tongue to keep from moaning at the desperate sound of his name on Ianto’s lips and the way his body bows in search of touch. One little moan would give him away, and he’s enjoying Ianto’s torment a little too much to give him the slightest clue yet. He’d feel guilty about that, too, if Ianto wasn’t achingly hard and flush with need. 

Jack’s own cock twitches, in sympathy and in reaction to the sight. He reaches down and strokes it, two long passes of his hand over the hard flesh curving toward his bare stomach, hoping it quells the need a little. It doesn’t. He gasps out a moan and curses himself a second later when Ianto’s head jerks his direction.

“Jack, please…”

There was a plan, Jack reminds himself as he approaches the bed in three quick strides. It was a good plan, a thorough plan. It involved hours of teasing and torment, taking Ianto to the brink over and over again, denying him release a hundred times. Withholding that one thing most wanted until he was begging for it. Wanted to hear him beg. Wanted to watch those full lips form around the words, hear his breath catch and his accent turn all the vowels round and thick and dirty. Jack just forgot that, when it came to his wily Welsh lover, it was nearly impossible to keep that kind of restraint.

Fuck the plan. He hates the plan. The plan takes too fucking long and he’s too fucking hard to play anymore. 

One knee hits the mattress, dips it and causes his captive to roll just the slightest bit. Before Ianto can adjust to the shift of the mattress, Jack tosses his other leg over Ianto’s hips until he’s straddling his waist. His cock, hard and weeping, curves against the crack of Jack’s ass. The feel of it there, hot and hard as a steel bar, makes Jack moan and Ianto’s hips jerk. When Jack stretches to reach under the pillow for a half-used tube of lube, Ianto lets out a low, hissing “Yes”.

Jack laughs. 

“Think you know what’s coming, do you?” Jack leans in, hot breath tickling Ianto’s ear as he flips the cap on the bottle. “Think you’re getting what you’ve been begging for?”

“Yes.” Despite the fact he’s all but strapped flat to the mattress, Ianto finds movement enough to roll his hips. He can’t see Jack’s grin, and the Captain figures that’s for the best. 

“You’re getting something,” Jack says just before cool, slick fingers slide over Ianto’s…

…cock.

“Jack?” The shaky moan is full of questions, but it doesn’t stop him from thrusting into Jack’s fist. 

The Captain tongues Ianto’s ear and wraps his fingers tight around the base of Ianto’s cock. Squeezes. It works as well as a spoken command to stop the thrusts, but does nothing to cut off the mewling whimpers sliding out with every one of Ianto’s ragged breaths. 

“Don’t move. Don’t even twitch.” Before the words have completely left his mouth, before the low growl has time to reach Ianto’s ear, Jack lifts his hips and sinks down, inch by inch, onto Ianto’s cock. It burns sweetly for a second, stretched and full, and Jack stills just to enjoy the feeling. 

An annoyed whine from the man beneath him brings Jack out of his reverie. 

“Jaaack.” It’s amazing how a simple word - one little syllable - can be stretched out so to many more and sound so fucking delicious, Jack thinks as he clenches around Ianto’s trapped cock but doesn’t otherwise move. More amazing still, how the mouth that was all desperate pout and begging a moment before is suddenly pressed into such a thin, angry line. “For Christ’s sake just move!” The demand is punctuated with a firm but shallow upward thrust. Jack groans again.

“There’s something…to be said…for patience.” Each pause is accompanied by a short rise and a hard, merciless descent that has Ianto panting and Jack digging his fingers into Ianto’s shoulders. But it’s not enough, not enough by half no matter how good it feels. Jack straightens, putting all his weight on his two folded knees and begins riding his lover in earnest. Lifts himself clear off each time, just to slam back down hard enough that it leaves him seeing stars. Every thrust slams into his prostate; every new intrusion stretches him that little bit more. God, he loves it.

He hears it in Ianto’s voice first; the ragged growl; the short, panting moans edged with pleasure so sharp it sounds almost painful. Ianto’s teetering at the edge and Jack’s right there with him, so close he can taste it, like excess ozone in the air after a lightning strike. He slams down harder in short thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin louder than the twisted words and nonsense sounds ripping through either man’s throat. He feels Ianto’s cock thicken and pulse inside him a half second before Ianto’s scream cuts through the air. Jack wraps his hand around his own cock and three hard pumps into his fist later, he’s coming over his fingers. And Ianto’s stomach. 

Then everything is still and silent. No movement but two chests rising, frantic, with the effort to drag in breath. No sound but desperate gasps. Jack pries his fingers off his still twitching cock and wipes his fingers off on the wiry hair scattered over Ianto’s chest. Then he leans in, cleaning up the traces of himself with long flicks of his tongue. His teeth scrape across Ianto’s nipple and his cock twitches once, weakly, inside Jack.

The Captain grins.

“Something to be said for the stamina of youth,” he says as he falls forward, head pillowed against Ianto’s neck. Surprisingly steady hands glide up Ianto’s sides and arms, not stopping until they encounter the edge where skin is swallowed up in leather. The restraints fall open after a few moment’s tinkering – his fingers aren’t as steady as he first thought – and Ianto’s arms fall around him a second later, after they’ve shoved the blindfold up and off and left it to fend for itself behind the bed. His lover’s chuckle is felt more than heard.

“Something to be said for the experience of age,” Ianto says, still more teasing in the last word than Jack expected him to be capable of, after that. But nothing, at this point, should surprise Jack anymore.

“Brat,” he says, the slightest wince to the words as he lifts himself enough to let Ianto’s now flaccid cock slip free. Then he rolls to his side, a leg tossed over one of Ianto’s, an arm dropped loose and possessive over his hip. “Can your ankles wait a bit? This old man could probably use a few minutes just to catch his breath.”

“Suppose.” Ianto’s voice is deep, thick, sleepy. For all youth’s stamina, he sounds just as wrecked as Jack feels. “Something you should remember though, sir.”

Jack doesn’t look up, not even at the fragile ominous warning that tries to lace itself through the words. “What’s that?”

“That when you sleep, you sleep like the dead. And I know where you keep the key to the ‘toy chest’.”

Jack is still grinning when sleep finally takes him.


End file.
